Soulmates & Twin Flames

10 - Nobody

"What does one wear to the opera?" I ask Olga over the phone. I'm standing in front of my miserable wardrobe, cursing at myself for my fashion choices. "Something sexy?"

"Nope." Olga is quick to answer.

My face falls.

"How about a summer dress?" I suggest, eyeing the one with tiny cherry prints.

"Too casual," Olga replies. "Look, if it were a Broadway show, you could wear anything you want, but Mr. CEO is taking you to a special performance at Lincoln Center."

I shuffle my bangs in desperation. "How about a ballgown?"

"Too much," Olga snaps.

"I've already maxed out my credit card last weekend. Shopping is not an option."

Olga hums thoughtfully at the other end of the line. "I have a cocktail dress. It's a little old and flashy, but—"

"I'll take it!"

An hour later, I'm in my best friend's tiny apartment, squeezing into a tight, strapless, red dress. My boobs are spilling out, and there's a split between the thighs. 

"I don't know, Olga," I say, taking an unsure step toward the mirror. The soft fabric dangerously stretches around my figure when I walk.

Well, at least I can walk!

I glance at my reflection. My hair is loosely tied in a bun and I only have mascara on. Olga's gold earrings add an elegant touch, but... "I look like a slut, don't I?"

"Of course not!" Olga cries.

"Promise?" I lock eyes with my friend through the mirror.

Olga grabs my shoulders and steps closer. "Abby, you could walk out in your underwear, and wouldn't look like slut."

I blow out a breath and give my reflection an encouraging nod.

"Did you pack a condom?" Olga smirks.

I chuckle and roll my eyes. Yeah, I packed twenty! I got them from a dispenser at the subway station and stuffed them into my old bag. Now the poor zipper's about to burst.

Can you blame me? This is technically our third date, and I'm hoping to get some action tonight.

"Wish me luck!" I yell as I leave Olga's apartment.

"You won't need it!"

***

Fuck.

I'm still blushing as I walk toward The Met Opera House. I had to pass security when I entered Lincoln Center, and the guard searched my bag. Manually.

Yeah, manually!

I couldn't look him in the eye when the condoms burst out like fucking a jack-in-the-box. My zipper is now officially broken. And I'm holding the two ends of my bag together, but the silver foils are sticking out of the edges.

Why did I have to take so many condoms? I should have taken three... Or four. Fine—five?

Fuck. Yeah, this is why I took so many. I want to go at it all night, and then all morning, and the next day, and the day after that.

I can't even dare to open my bag and take out my phone to check the time. It must be early, though. Everybody's gathered around the modern fountain in the middle, watching the waters cascade down with drinks in their hands. Their sneers make me sweat.

Why are they wearing all black? Did I miss the part about a dress code?

I carefully take out my phone to check the ticket as I enter the building. There are no remarks about wearing all black. Lucky me, the floors are covered in red carpet from wall to wall. At least, my red dress will blend into the structure, and I'll be invisible.